


L’Inconnu de la Seine

by Cylina Nightshade (Cylina)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU, M/M, Suicide, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:59:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2511851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylina/pseuds/Cylina%20Nightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heero is a police officer who responds to the scene of a suspected suicide drowning. He is inexplicably drawn to the image he finds. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	L’Inconnu de la Seine

**Author's Note:**

> **Bonus warning for weirdness** (Necrophilia maybe… no sex… but definitely weird…)

* * *

_Can you recognize your soulmate_

_once the soul is gone?_

* * *

It was near the end of our shift, the sky gaining a slight rosy glow signifying the oncoming sunrise, when I heard the shout. I glanced over at my partner to make sure he had heard as well. At his slight nod I broke into a jog, my partner right on my heels. Rounding the corner of a building, we came upon the expanse of the Seine. At our arrival, we heard a continuation of the ruckus. We saw a merchant boat in the middle of the river, one of the crew waving frantically to get our attention and then pointing toward the river bank. Before seeing what the man was pointing at, I heard Wufei gasp. I turned his way just in time to see him run toward the bank. I followed his path with my eyes and finally laid sight on what had caused his reaction. There on the bank, halfway submerged in water, was a body.

At first I believed it was a woman. The long chestnut-colored hair flowed loosely over the body’s back ending in the river, drifting lazily in the slight waves. By the time I had caught up with Wufei, he had already turned the body over, checking for a pulse. It was then that I noted that I had been incorrect in my initial assumption. This wasn't the body of a woman, but of a young man.

Wufei sighed. “No pulse.”

My eyes glanced over the body - corpse - to check if I could see any signs of trauma. I saw none. “Suicide?”

Wufei finished his own visual assessment and nodded. “Most likely.”

My eyes continued their own assessment. The man was thin. Must have been one of the lower class.

Wufei continued, “I’m guessing 14, maybe 15?”

My eyes shifted to the face of the man, to try to guess his age, and my breath caught. The heart shaped face was graced with smooth, unblemished, alabaster skin. The shape of the cheekbones narrowing down to the petite chin gave the man a delicate look. Long, thick eyelashes rested against the smooth cheeks. The corpse simply looked like it was asleep.

_He’s beautiful._

The most mystifying thing of all though, was the small, content smile fixed upon the corpse’s unmoving features.

_He looks so happy in death._

It made me wonder even more about the man, barely more than a child. What could cause such enjoyment in one’s own death? With a tentative hand I reached out to barely touch the tips of my fingers against that secretive smile. It was almost a shock to discover they were cold. I had nearly forgotten that he wasn't merely asleep.

“Yuy?” Wufei gave me a questioning look. I pulled my hand back.

_The cold is surprising, but the softness even more so._

I offered to watch over the enigmatic young man while Wufei reported back to headquarters. I was oddly calm, sitting alongside the banks of the Seine, waiting with a corpse. I watched as more colors started to appear in his hair as it began to dry. Cinnamon reds and sunlight golds woven among the chestnut strands. A slight breeze ruffled his bangs and sent a few strands curling around his face. I brushed them behind his ear.

Eventually Wufei returned with other officers. The corpse with the inscrutable smile was lifted into the back of a carriage to be taken to the morgue. I gave my report to a fellow officer before saying farewell to Wufei and heading home.

I looked around my simple apartment. I had never noticed it before, but the place felt cold, uninviting.

_Why is it so lonely?_

I turned and left my apartment. My feet followed a path almost without my own knowledge. I found myself in an apothecary’s shop.

_Could I smile at Death?_

I purchased a small vial and left the shop. I once again allowed my feet to lead me. I pushed open the heavy door and walked into the viewing area of the morgue. I ignored the few gawkers, staring at the corpses on display in morbid curiosity. I entered the inner portion and glanced around at what was lain on the marble slabs, searching for one in particular. I saw him on a slab in the corner of the room.

I placed my hand on his cool cheek. “You are Death incarnate. Only Death could find such pleasure in death.” I brushed my thumb against that enigmatic smile. I climbed onto the slab next to the man. I pulled the small vial of poison from my pocket and removed the cork. I brushed the tips of my fingers against his closed eyelids. “I wish to see the color of your eyes. I yearn to see the sparkle of life within their depths. If I ask it of Death, will I be allowed to join you?” I drank the vial. I laid my head against his chest. As my eyes closed I couldn't help the small smile from appearing on my face.

_Death smiles at me._

**Author's Note:**

> -Author’s Note-
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This is inspired by L’Inconnue de la Seine (The Unknown Woman of the Seine):  
> A dead woman fished up from the river Seine that some morgue worker thought was so beautiful he made a wax mold of her face. (a real thing, look it up)
> 
> I don’t know French in the slightest. I just know random things can be male/female based on how they are written. I saw that inconnue was translated as “unknown woman” and figured it must be a feminine form. So I used Google Translate to try to find the male version. If I am incorrect, please tell me.
> 
> Also, I totally didn’t know until looking up info for this story that visiting morgues use to be a social pastime in Paris. 19th century Parisians were freaks. (Says the girl who just wrote a necrophilia fic. >.<)


End file.
